


Sleep is for the Innocent

by wilsonmark



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29708325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilsonmark/pseuds/wilsonmark
Summary: Following the traumatic events of the plane crash, Maeve is suffering in isolation, as she has done for the majority of her life. When she finds a tenuous comfort in Starlight's presence, will she open up or push her away?Starlight has always looked up to Queen Maeve and when she joined The Seven, dreamed of having a mentor in the older supe. Since her arrival though, their interactions have been clipped at best. As they spend more time together, will Starlight like the woman that she finds under the bravado and alcohol laced insults?
Relationships: Queen Maeve/Starlight | Annie January
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Sleep is for the Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> Watching The Boys season one, I simultaneously identified with the naïve do-gooder Starlight and the burned out and resigned Queen Maeve. I wanted their relationship to be explored in more depth, but when I didn't find what I wanted from the show, I decided to write it for myself. This is my first attempt at fanfiction: I think I'm using it more as a means of parsing through the different parts of myself than anything else. It's a freeing sort of therapeutic exercise. I don't know if this will lead to a romantic relationship, as I really like the pairing of Maeve and Elena, but I could see it as a possibility that they find mutual comfort in each other at some point in the story. 
> 
> This first chapter takes place after the plane crash, but before Starlight's revelations at the Believe Expo.

Every night the dreams were slightly different. In tonight’s iteration she had decided to stay on the plane and go down with the people she had failed to save. She knew it was what she deserved, but it didn’t fill the passengers of flight 37 with any more hope, only prolonged the time that she had with them. Their shrieks of terror filled her ears, hitting a terrifying crescendo with every new jolt, expecting it to be the last they ever felt. The wail of mothers mourning children that were still alive in their arms, the hopeless pleas for rescue that she knew she knew she would never be able to answer. 

The plane picked up speed as it’s nosedive became evermore pronounced. Wind thrummed through the cabin, mirroring the thrumming in Maeve’s chest as debris littered the air, whipping about wildly, striking passengers without discretion. Her arms were around the little girl, trying to shield her from the harsh reality of their impending doom. She looked into the mother’s tear filled eyes and all she could say was, “I’m so sorry,” over and over, begging for forgiveness that she knew she could never earn. This is where her story would end, in a failure so large that escape would be worse than sharing the fate of the people she had damned with her hubris. She looked towards the cockpit and could see the ocean just before the plane made impact. She braced for death, clutching the girl and her mother ever tighter and closing her eyes, but it never came. 

The plane plunged into the ocean, filling with water instantly as every scream was simultaneously silenced. The weight of the plane rapidly dragged them towards the oceans’ darkest depths. In the impact she must have let go of the little girl and mother because her arms were empty. Reaching out in the blackness she felt nothing but the heaviness that comes with being underwater, slowing every movement. She tried to feel her way through the blackness to find the door. She could feel her air running out. The weight of the water trying to find its way into her chest became overwhelming. Panicked, she began to fight, finding herself wrapped in the tubing from the life support masks. The more she struggled the more tangled she became, until she was writhing frantically. Flailing in the dark she finally heard a ripping of fabric and felt her limbs free from their binds. 

Gasping for air she sat up in her bed, realizing that it was only a dream. Still, she was surrounded by darkness and soaked to the bone. Reaching for her bedside lamp she realized that the ripping she'd heard in her dream was real. Her sheets were tattered and wrapped around various parts of her body, creating a series of binds. Panicking again from the memory of being trapped in her nightmare she hastily ripped the fabric from her arms, legs and torso, shedding the sweat soaked threads. Wanting to escape the memories and the wreckage left behind by her night terror she sprang from her bed, grabbing her nightgown as she exited the room. 

'It was just a dream', she kept reminding herself as she walked through the empty halls of Vought Tower. Though part of her wished it had been real. Surviving the plane crash that she and Homelander had caused was proving to be too much for her to bear. 'I wish I could go back to feeling nothing, to simply existing day to day', she thought as she made her way towards the shared common room. 

For years she had been dissociated from the minutiae of their super lives, accepting the role of corporate puppet. She was a doll, to be plucked off the shelf and put on display at the whims of her collectors. What else could she do? She had once thought it possible to leave this life behind, let some new hero carry the burden and enjoy a simple life with Elena by her side. 'It was just a dream.' She repeated bitterly this time. 'Homelander would have never let me leave. Elena is better off without me. I just bring trouble to everyone I touch. I'm rotten and everything I touch turns to rot.' 

Since the plane crash, it was like she had been jolted from the fog, seeing and feeling for the first time in ages. She didn’t like it, the fog had been like a warm cocoon, protecting her from the harsh world outside. Now that it had been removed, she felt exposed and frail. Like a nerve exposed to air, the smallest stimulus could leave her reeling for hours, though her cohorts were none the wiser. Her years of practiced detachment gave her a poker face that few could see through. 

'Does Homelander see through it? Sometimes she couldn’t tell what game they were playing anymore. Does he just let me think that he believes me? Or is he so self assured that he believes what he wants to? Blinded by his own power.' 

Walking through the double doors of The Seven’s shared living space, she made a beeline for the drink cart. What had once only been an accessory to her casual cynicism had become all but a crutch. Her attempts to drown her newly emerged feelings in liquor only seemed to make her raw emotions more vibrant when they emerged. Still, she valiantly pursued her goal of suppressing the memories from that fateful rescue mission gone awry. She was used to losing bits of herself, but it had been quite some time since she'd lost a mission. 

'Some hero you are,' she sneered at herself. 'Failure. Killer. Liar. Fraud.' This had been her four word mantra over the past weeks since the incident.

The sounds of cracking ice filled the dimly lit room as she poured herself a tall glass of bourbon. Thanks to an enhanced constitution, it took more than your average glass of booze for Maeve to achieve the level of buzz that she was searching for. Taking a seat on the long sofa she flicked on the television to serve as background noise. Quiet was never something that soothed Maeve. In the quiet, her mind would always wander to the darkest of places, playing all her failures and shortcomings on a loop. As the adult cartoon flickered in the background she sipped at her drink, willing apathy to consume her. 

\--------

Three glasses deep and sleep still eluded Maeve. Surprisingly, she was finding a shallow kind of comfort in the randomly selected show she had put on. She couldn’t help relating to the morally gray antihero, spouting his nihilistic vitriol while drowning his obvious depression in booze. She laughed sardonically as she realized just how unoriginal her brand of suffering was. The door to the living quarters opened, cutting her laughter short. Looking up she saw Starlight halfway enter the room before stopping, clearly trying to decide how to proceed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know anybody would be in here,” Starlight said, pausing to see if the intrusion was unwelcomed. Maeve simply continued to stare at Starlight blankly with glassy eyes and her patented smirk. Maeve didn’t know what she was feeling since seeing Starlight enter the room. First and foremost, relief, that it wasn’t Homelander. Second, longing, for both loneliness and connection. She couldn’t describe it, but there were two warring parts within her. One part was desperate for someone, anyone, to understand the pain and torment that she had been experiencing. The other part however, wanted to curl in the corner, alone, like the wounded animal that she was, hissing at anyone who dared to venture too close. 

Before she could make a decision however, Starlight made one for the both of them. “Okay, goodnight." she said, smiling awkwardly as she backed out of the room.

Before the door could fully close Maeve spoke up, “You don’t have to leave.” 

The movement of the door halted. Starlight paused with her fingers on the handle, deciding how to proceed. 

'If she had wanted me gone she would have let me go.' Starlight thought to herself. With this in her mind she forged forward into the TV lit room. 

'Maybe we’ll bond over some girl talk.' she thought dryly. 

Maeve had gone back to staring at the TV and sipping her drink, seeming to pay no mind to Starlight as she crossed the room and sat on the other end of the sofa. Maeve noticed through the corner of her eye that Starlight had a book with her and had begun to read it. After a few minutes of silence Maeve remarked, “You can turn on that side lamp if you need to.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t need it,” Starlight replied. Looking up, Maeve saw that Stalight’s irises were glowing a soft gold. 

“Hmph, of course you don’t.” Maeve scoffed. 

Starlight gave an airy smile and shrugged, willing herself to not let the comment get under her skin. She wasn’t sure where she stood with Maeve, but since their first encounter she sensed a certain level of resentment coming from the older hero. 

'Was it something I did?' She thought, 'I haven’t even interacted with her long enough to actually do anything.'

Maeve could feel Starlight’s self assured grin from across the couch. 

'Remember when that was you? Eager to save the world, devoid of self doubt or common sense. You were a naïve fool.' She thought back to that night in the bathroom, perhaps if Translucent hadn’t been there she would have comforted the young girl more. Admittedly, she had been annoyed by the younger woman’s show of weakness, for it mirrored the weakness inside her that she had worked so hard to snuff out. 'Or maybe you would have been just as devoid of mercy as you always are.'

She downed the rest of her drink and stood to fill her glass for the fourth time that evening. Rounding the drink cart she glanced up at Starlight still reading her book, “Do you want one?” She asked the blonde. 

Starlight wasn’t particularly in the mood for a drink, but if this was Maeve’s way of extending an olive branch, the younger girl didn’t want to turn it down. “Sure,” she responded, meeting Maeve’s eyes. Even with their icy start, she couldn’t deny that she still held hope that they could share in some female camaraderie. 'After all,' she thought, 'we’re on the same team, fighting the same fight.' 

“What’ll you have?” Maeve asked. She filled her own glass with ice and emptied the remainder of the whiskey bottle on top.

“Vodka tonic?” Starlight replied. 

“Is that a question or a statement?” The older woman asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“Vodka tonic.” The blonde repeated in a more flat tone. 

A wry smile appeared on Maeve’s face as she made the requested drink. It wasn’t lost on Starlight, 'I cannot get a read on this woman,' she thought to herself. 'Does she loathe me? Do I disgust her? Amuse her? Or is she entirely indifferent to my existence except for where it concerns her?' Deciding not to dwell too much on Maeve’s expression and what it might mean she looked ahead at the cartoon on the television, giving it her attention for the first time since entering the room.

Returning to the couch, Maeve noticed that Starlight was watching TV, book forgotten in her hand. “Here,” she said as she proffered the glass. “Thanks,” the younger woman replied, reaching out to accept it. They sipped their drinks in silence as the show played on. 

“What’s a Meeseeks?” The older woman asked, clearly having missed an important plot point while making the drinks. 

The simple question startled Starlight. All their previous interactions had been clipped and laced with hostility. “Oh, um,” the blonde started, clearing her throat, “it’s a creature that’s generated from that box and you ask for its help. Once its task is complete, it stops existing.” 

Maeve made a short, bitter laugh, “Sounds about right.” 

Starlight gave her a quizzical look, “What do you mean?” 

“One single use asshole coming right up. Chuck ‘em when you’re done.” The redhead snorted, waving her glass through the air as she spoke. Starlight had never seen the other woman so loose of lip. She wondered now just how many drinks Maeve had had before her arrival. 

“Apparently they don’t mind. See the more tattered looking ones,” Starlight pointed the characters out on the screen, “Existence is painful for their species.” 

“Ha. I bet it is.” Maeve retorted knowingly.

The younger woman turned to look at Maeve, understanding they were no longer talking about the show. Maeve was staring straight ahead with a rueful grin across her face. Whether her eyes were glassy from the bourbon or something else, Starlight could not tell. She wanted to comfort the woman sitting beside her, to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder. She was hesitant to acknowledge the comment for what she knew it was, fearing that Maeve would lash out in an attempt to cover her exposed vulnerabilities.

Maeve shook her head in an attempt to clear the darker thoughts that were seeping in, 'Never let them see you like this', she scolded. That had been her mantra anytime she was feeling vulnerable, a reminder to always have on your armor. A mantra she had repeated to Starlight on her first day in the bathroom.

Starlight opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Maeve commenting on the show. 

“Leave it to a man to ask something as impossible as improving his shitty golf game,” she laughed breezily. The forlorn Maeve that had been sitting on the couch moments before had now been replaced by the cool, confident one Starlight was used to seeing. 

The blonde continued to stare at the older woman for a moment before accepting the cue to let her show of weakness pass unacknowledged. Looking back to the TV she gave a small laugh and said, “Yeah, that was the joke they made at the beginning.” Sipping on her drink they continued to watch the episode in silence. Maeve absentmindedly rubbed the malformed radius in her arm, a habit she had picked up over the years to soothe herself. 

Starlight thought, 'She’s more vulnerable than she lets on. Maybe that’s why she’s so prickly, to keep everyone at bay. A decade under the thumb of Vought.' Starlight couldn’t even imagine what could happen to a person’s soul in that amount of time. 

'Existence is painful for their species.' She let that thought ruminate. 'Little by little, people take the parts of you they want. Do you kill your own desires to make it less painful?' She used to think the apathy and snark oozing off of Maeve stemmed from a genuine lack of interest in their work and the people it touched. 'Perhaps it’s a practiced apathy, as false as the smile she puts on in front of the cameras.' If that were the case though, who was this woman at her core? Underneath the performance art, when she was alone, with no one to witness, who came to the surface?

Starlight remembered the harsh words Maeve had spoken to her on her first night in Vaught Tower, “Never let them see you like this.” At first she had been taken aback by the older woman’s lack of sympathy, now she wondered if it was Maeve’s way of offering advice and solidarity in the only way that she knew how. If this hardened exterior was Maeve’s way of protecting herself, would she have let it slip, especially knowing that Translucent was there watching?

Now that her mind had drifted back to that night she couldn’t help but feel sick. Her mouth began to water and her stomach began to roil. Every time she went back to that night her body remembered the feeling of retching in the toilet after her sexual encounter with The Deep. 'So stupid,' She chastised. 'You should have never let yourself be in that situation, you should have left, should have fought more.' Her heart began to race, she could feel an icy sweat start to cover her body, and tears started to cloud her eyes as she was transported back to that room. Her mind was racing with admonishments of her own helplessness as she relived the events of that night, not for the first time. She wanted to simultaneously curl in a ball and disappear and destroy everything in the immediate vicinity. Rage and despair danced in her head, fighting for control, effectively paralyzing her from acting on either impulse. She took a sip from her glass, willing the alcohol to steady her mind.

Wanting a distraction, she tried to strike up another conversation with Maeve, “I didn’t peg you for an Adult Swim fan.” 

When her comment was met with silence she looked over to see if she had offended the older woman. She found Maeve had drifted off to sleep, drink still in her hand. She’d never seen the redhead look so at peace before. 'What burdens she must be carrying.' Starlight stood and walked stealthily to the other side of the couch. She didn’t want to disturb Maeve’s sleep, but she also didn’t want to leave the whiskey glass in her hand to be spilled in the night. 

Maeve had always been easily roused from sleep, regardless of the amount of alcohol in her system. She felt the other woman approach her from the side, but remained still. Keeping her face smooth and her breathing steady she allowed Starlight to remove the drink from her hand. She couldn’t explain it, but she didn’t want to be seen witnessing this act of kindness. To acknowledge it would be to accept the caring gesture. She’d always had difficulty accepting help, more so in recent years. 'Better to let her think I’m still asleep.'

Starlight sat the glass gingerly down and looked back at Maeve, Maybe I should cover her with a blanket. She decided against it, not wanting to push her luck and wake up the other woman. She was wise enough to know that even a small act like that could earn her a fierce rebuke. Leaving the TV on, she exited the room, retreating to her sleeping quarters.

Maeve waited for several minutes to make certain she was alone before opening her eyes. Looking around to confirm she was truly by herself she stood and reached for the remote, but something on the opposite side of the couch caught her attention. Starlight’s book sat perched on the couch arm, 'Anne of Avonlea,' Maeve read to herself. 'Typical Iowan goody two shoes reading,' she thought, rolling her eyes. Shutting off the television she made her way to the exit, but paused at the door, looking back towards the book.

Starlight arrived in her room, exhaustion finally catching up with her. Her sleep schedule had never been one designed for maximum rest, but lately she’d been going nonstop. 'With these early mornings and late nights I should be passing out as soon as I lie down,' she thought, but insomnia had an unrelenting hold on her as of late. Crawling under the covers she closed her eyes, seeking the comfort of unconsciousness. 'Shit!' She thought, as her eyes flew open. 'My fucking book.' She leapt from her bed and began the walk back to the common room. If it had been any other book she would have left it until the morning, but this one had sentimental value. 

Half swaying through the hallways of Vought Tower, Maeve turned the worn book over in her hand again. Opening the faded hardback she read the first page, 'First impression, September 1909.' Still looking down at the book she rounded a corner, nearly running into Starlight. 

Both women halted, startled by the near collision. Maeve gently closed the book and held it out for the younger woman, “You left this in the common room,” she said. 

“Yeah, uh, I was just heading back to grab it,” Starlight stammered. She was taken aback by Maeve’s apparent thoughtfulness. 

“Seemed important.” Maeve said almost dismissively as she turned to retire to her room. 

“Hey Maeve!” Starlight called out to her retreating colleague. 

The redhead stopped and turned, saying nothing, but raising a single eyebrow in question. 

Starlight answered with a simple, “Th-thanks." A shy smile crept across her face as she held up the book in acknowledgement.

Maeve gave a half smile and two finger salute, saying, “Goodnight Starlight.”

Starlight returned with her own, “Goodnight,” and turned to make her way back to her quarters. 'That smile almost seemed genuine,' she mused. Back in her room she returned the book to its designated slot, running her finger along the spine tenderly. Sliding into her bed for the final time, she remembered Maeve's words, 'seemed important.'

'Maybe there’s a sentimental heart in there after all,' she considered as she drifted off to sleep. 

\--------

Maeve was curled on the floor of her room and wrapped in her duvet, having been unwilling to clear the mess off her bed. Head spinning and mind reeling, she waited for unconsciousness to consume her. Finger tracing the unnatural bend in her radius, she tried to conjure a positive image to hold onto in the darkness. Unnervingly, the first thing that popped into her mind was Starlight’s smile. 'She still holds onto hope. Maybe she’s stronger than I thought.' Her mind turned dark. 'Or just as dumb as you once were.' She corrected herself.


End file.
